Life's Goals
by KairiHyugaKuchiki
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a successful journalist while Francis Bonnefoy is the world's raising fashion designer. One has completed their goal and another has not, but what happens when they start rethinking their life's goal?
1. Prolouge

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Enough said.**

**Chapter Rating: K+ maybe K . . . I suck at ratings.**

**Translations: No translations this time around. D:**

Prolouge

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><p>Arthur Kirkland has lead an average life thus far. Raised in the very wealthy Kirkland family, the youngest of five children; he was used to getting everything he wanted and needed to live in the world.<p>

He is well on his way onto becoming a successful journalist in his family's world renown company, just after a few years after graduating from college with a literature degree. Ignoring the fact that it may be from the cause of his family's influence, but he chooses to believe that it is his writing abilities that have gotten him this far.

Though, thanks to being the youngest, he understands that he will never own the company unless something happens to all of his older brothers. But, since there's four of them and one of him, he knows the chance is slim, so does his parents for they never expected much from him.

But, he has always tried to prove his worth for his wants to be the best as he can be.

With that said, Arthur's career may be shooting sky high, but his social life, I mean his nonexistent social life, is well that, nonexistent.

It's not that he does not have enough time to be social and all. His job requires him to be social in order to get the info he needs for articles and such. But, however social he gets, people do not like sticking around for too long.

Don't get Arthur wrong and all, he's a likable fellow, a tad too serious sometimes but likable, nonetheless. That is, until he gets a little angry.

Alfred F. Jones, Arthur's closest friend since middle school, is one of the few, to have stuck around Arthur despite how angry the little Englishman can get.

Despite his anger management "problem", his appearance tells over wise. Messy, short blond hair, bright green eyes, a little on the short side, and quite slender, he was many call _'of average appearance'_. But, his most noticeable feature is what he and his brothers (to some extent) share are big, bushy eyebrows.

And, like every Englishman out there, he loves his tea time and always makes time for it no matter how busy he is.

And now, at the age of twenty three, he has began to notice how predictable his schedule is. Day after day; Arthur wakes at the crack of dawn, eats his wonderfully cooked breakfast (made by yours truly), drives his car to work, turns in his work from the day before and starts immediately on his next task.

Who wouldn't like a predictable schedule such as Arthur's; but Arthur himself. Little to his knowledge, his schedule may get a schedule change he has always wanted, but never knew he wanted.

And, it starts with him being assigned to interview the world's raising French fashion designer, Francis Bonnefoy.

* * *

><p>Francis Bonnefoy, on the other hand has not lead the <em>average<em> life such as Arthur. As soon as he was born, he was dropped at one of Paris' many orphanages. At a very young age, Francis had set his goal to be the world's best and most famous fashion designer. Easier said than done.

Thanks to having no family of his own, and having no support from the ones who raised him. He had almost given up a number of times, why he never did still confuses him to this day. As soon as he was five, he did a number of odd jobs some of which, he would never mention again, absolutely never.

His odd jobs continued throughout his school career. But, along those years, he gained support from people who were not his family, but might as well be. Two imperticular, Gilbert Beilschmidt and Antonio Hernandez, have been at his side through the worst of times and through the best of times.

Francis would be lying to himself if he said he was proud of himself doing all those odd jobs. There were a few where he was outright ashamed of and if it weren't for his best friends- no, his brothers, he is sure he would not be where he is now.

Which is true, if it weren't for Gilbert's pushy nature and Antonio's optimistic nature, he would have never taken a job as a model at the age of seventeen.

Francis and his friends were a handsome trio, each with different attributes that made them, well them. Francis with medium length, wavy, blond hair, with sparkling blue eyes, his slenderness along with a few muscles and his taller-than-average height; he made a perfect model.

His best point, which was why he was offered to be a model in the first place, was his eye for small details. Even though many designers would never listen to what a model would have to say for their job was to wear their clothes and look pretty; Francis brought many points to the runway that otherwise the designers missed. They were grateful for having him around.

Within the next few years, many of the major clothing companies in the world, began eying Francis' eye to detail, and soon Francis was offered to design his own line of woman's clothing; to which he did not need his best friends to convince him to say yes. For this was his life's goal. And, he had finally made it.

Now at the age of twenty six, Francis Bonnefoy completed his life's goal. His first designer line was finally ready for the world to see, and during fashion week in Paris, no less!

But, only at the age of twenty six, he has already completed what many did in a lifetime, he never thought of a second goal for he didn't think he would complete the first so soon. . . Or, ever for that matter.

With the world's fashion industry in the palm of his hand, Francis has no idea what to achieve next.

Who wouldn't like to complete one's lifetime goal at such an early age such as Francis; but Francis himself. Little to his knowledge, Francis may see what his next goal in life shall be soon enough.

And, it starts with him, annoying a successful English journalist during fashion week.

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><p><strong>Yeah that was absolutely horrible . . . But I felt like I need to get out of my system. I mean seriously! It's been bugging me for days! Okay just two days but still! Is it me or does France have a bigger prologue than little England? Oh well . . . Review if you liked what you read. Even though I think it's horrible (trying out a new writing style), I may continue if enough people like this . . . . <strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I sadly do not own Hetalia. . . . Well I'm glad I don't own it, I do not wish to be attacked by fangirls for some obvious reasons, especially USXUK fangirls.

**Chapter Rating:** You tell me, as I said before I suck at ratings. But, I will warn if it's gets _hot_, not like that's ever gonna happen. _*cough*_

**A/N:** Same deal as the last chapter it will be 3rd POV with some interruptions from me, when I see fit. Serious chapters may be in 1st POV, you'll never know.~

**Characters:**

_Just showing some of the spellings/names I'm using for some of the characters in case anyone is confused._

Aengus Kirkland – OC of Scotland

Kaoru Wong – Hong Kong

Yekaterina Braginski - Ukraine

Heracles Karpusi – Greece

**Translations: Correct me if I'm wrong. **

**(French) **_merci, vingt-trois, trente et un, trente trois, quatrante, d'accord, oui, je sais, deux ans, salut mes amies, Marcher – _thank you, 23, 31, 33, 40, agreed, yes, I know, 2 years, hello my friends, to walk

**(Hungarian)** _ígéret, magasság_– please, height

**(German)** _nichts_ - nothing

**(Spanish)** _si_ - yes

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Arthur Kirkland was having one of those days. You know those kind of days where nothing went right. To start off his _wonderful_ day, he overslept (by his standards anyways), thus he had to skip the most important meal of the day, breakfast. To make matters worst his car's battery decided to die on him . . . Halfway to work.

Well, that was not the worst of this wonderful, bloody morning; it was raining like hell and Arthur had three choices; it was either a forty five minute walk to work, wait an hour for the next trolley* to arrive, or call to his idiot _friend_, Alfred.

Much to Arthur's annoyance, Alfred was probably his best bet.

So, with a groan, Arthur took out his cell phone from his back pocket, glad to see it was still dry and dialed Alfred's number.

"The Hero has answered your call~ What do ya need Artie!?" As always, Alfred skipped the _'greeting_' bullshit and went straight to business. To which Arthur was glad, he was irked from being out in the rain for long, even with an umbrella.

"Alfred, are you at work yet?" asked Arthur, hoping that the bloody American was running late like he always was.

"Nope, leaving my house right now~ Why?"

"I need you to pick me up at the 231 station." stated Arthur, knowing Alfred would pick him up, but like any _hero_, he would ask the story behind it later, and will never let the story die.

"The Hero will save you~" sang Alfred as Arthur could hear a car engine turning on, "But, you own the hero lunch~!"

"Whatever you bloody fool, pick me up before I am even more late." sighed Arthur as he hung up the phone, and went to look for some shelter.

* * *

><p>"Elizabeta! I lost my measuring tape again! I can't find it!" whined a panicked voice with a deep French accent as he was looking under random objects for his measuring tape.<p>

"Francis, the measuring tape is around your neck." stated the woman, who was next to the panicking Frenchman; whom immediately stopped panicking long enough to look down. To find that the measuring tape was indeed like a scarf around his neck.

"Merci, Elizabeta! I don't know what I will do without you!" thanked Francis as he went back to work, measuring the nearest model. "Waist vingt-trois inches, chest trente et un inches, hips trente trois inches, shoulders quatrante inches."

"You would be panicking." Elizabeta stated with a smile while she wrote down the measurements. "Magasság?"

"D'accord." agreed Francis, as he shooed the model away and started measuring the next one. "5'9"."

"The last one? A little short considering the event." Elizabeta commented as she wrote down the height.

"Oui, but she worked hard to get here." Francis stated before he started calling out measures to Elizabeta, whom continued writing them down.

_'Much like someone else I know.'_

* * *

><p>"Dude, you should really stop dissing my words!" whined an American as he and the person he was complaining to, got out of the elevator on the twentieth floor.<p>

"Stop wording my diss then." mocked the Englishman with a smirk as he continued to walk ahead towards the staff's kitchen to get some tea. Being outside in the rain till an idiot picked you up, for a good hour, can chill your bones.

"You son of a bitch.**" huffed the American as he walked towards the doughnuts table.

"Uh huh, keep telling yourself that, Alfred." Arthur commented as put the kettle on the stove. Looking intently at the kitchen's clock. Even after all his fuss this morning; he was still early for work, not as early as he usually was, but early and out of trouble.

"I will." pouted the Alfred as he took an angry bite from his doughnut. No need to abuse the doughnut Alfred . . . .

"Quit acting so child-" Arthur was cut off by someone clearing their throat.

"Arthur, Aengus wants to see you in his office now." and with that the person who rudely interrupted Alfred and Arthur's petty conversation was gone.

"Well, I guess I will see you around later." Arthur said his goodbye to Alfred as he shut off the stove and left to his oldest brother's office. Being called in so early in the day to his brother's office is never a good thing. Heck, being called to his older brother's office is never a good thing.

Arthur did not bother knocking before entering Aengus' office door, for Aengus did the same when they were younger and still living under the same roof. Still does, but then again Aengus was kinda his boss and Arthur's office does not have a door . . . .

"You chimed, Aengus?" asked Arthur as he went and took a seat in front of Aengus' desk, whom had a dead-panned expression with an unlit cigar in his mouth.

Even though, they're brothers; Arthur admits that his oldest brother, Aengus, is the most handsome out of the lot. Aengus has the same piercing emerald eyes as all the five-some of siblings have, but there was something different about them. Aengus, of course, has the signature Kirkland's eyebrow look, but to a less of a degree. And, like two others of his siblings, excluding Arthur, Aengus was born with red hair. The damn Celtic ancestors' genes decided to skip Arthur, probably hoping that his father would mistake him as a bastard child, and then disown him.

Arthur was saved by the blood tests when he was younger. Serves the old man right, denying the Kirkland's signature eyebrows.

Anyways, back to the office scene.

"What is my cheerful assignment this time? If I may ask." Arthur asked after a few awkward moments of silence. There's a reason why Aengus does** not** do interviews.

"Fashion week in Paris starts tomorrow. Send me a schedule of the days' events along with interviews of_ famous_ designers. Particularly Francis Bonnefoy, he's been the talk around here and everywhere lately. And, I want you to be the first to interview him, by any means possible; got that?" explained Aengus as he started taking out an around trip plane ticket, a brochure about the hotel Arthur was staying in, along with a few V.I.P. passes to get Arthur in private parties and events.

"Yes, Aengus." Arthur said as he took the items he needed for his assignment and looked at his plane ticket. Great, he has to catch the plane in five hours, which leaves two hours to finish anything he needs to do before departure. "Anything else?"

Aengus shook his head and he turned his chair around. Seeing as he had everything he needed, Arthur decided to leave back home to pack some necessities.

But, when Arthur was about to shut the door behind him, Aengus decided it was the best time to ask Arthur something. "Artie, you do know French right?"

"To an extent, but I hate the bloody language as much as any romance language. Why?"

"I insist you study up, you are, after all, going to where they speak French." Arthur slammed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"Francis, ígéret me, that you will be your best behavior tonight." warned a sweet Hungarian accented voice.<p>

"Don't worry, I always behave." chuckled Francis as he and his assistant walked out of a cafe where they were had a light lunch at.

"Sure you do, Francis, but please take this seriously, you want to make a good first impression."

"Oui, je sais." Francis agreed with a sigh. "Sometimes, Elizabeta, you treat me like such a child."

"You might as well be one sometimes." Elizabeta said with a laugh, "And, besides I am older than you."

"Just by deux ans." smirked Francis as he and Elizabeta stopped at the traffic lights, waiting for their time to cross.

"Is that Francis and Elizabeta the awesome me sees, Tony?!" exclaimed a loud German accented voice, though by appearance the person wasn't a stereotypical German . . .

Gilbert as his mother named him; is well what many people called albino. Silver (sometimes white) hair, red eyes, and a light tan complexion. And according to him, he's an awesome Prussian (don't ask him for the back story) and he's also five meters (for your safety do not ask what he means if you do not understand).

"Si, I think I see them too, let's go see if it's them~" sang a Spanish accented voice as he and the Prussian walked towards them.

The Spaniard of the group, Antonio was also the oblivious one, as well as the cutie pie. Forest green eyes, light brown hair, olive complexion, and a world renowned tomato lover. Yeah, he's also the most _normal_ and dull one of the trio. Someone has to be you see? And, that someone is Antonio.

"Salut, mes amis~! How have you two been?" Francis asked his two best friends in the world, joined them. . . . Wait, just him. While Francis was waiting for his friends, Elizabeta took that time to walk away into the crowd, in hopes to avoid the_ Bad Touch _reunion.

"Fine." answered both the Spaniard and Prussia in unison.

"But, word on the street, is that your line finally comes out tomorrow." stated Gilbert as he swung an arm over Francis' shoulders. "So, in celebration of that, how about we go clubbing tonight?"

"As much as I would enjoy that mes amis, but I cannot. I have an exclusive par-" Francis cut himself mid-sentence. "Never mind that, I have a plan."

"A plan? The awesome me is intrigued. How 'bout you Tony?" Prussia asked with a smirk, knowing full well Antonio would go with the plan and no tricking needed.

"Si, I am also intrigued as well, Francis. So, what's the plan?"

"Marcher with me mes amis." Francis commanded as he put both of his arms around his two best friends' necks.

* * *

><p>During his flight to Paris, Arthur took that time to get up to date with what he likes to call Hell on Earth, a.k.a. Paris. And, to be more exact Fashion week.<p>

Besides that, he narrowed down his list to six must-be-interviewed (a.k.a. to be stalked) during fashion week. Much to Arthur's surprise is that most of the designers were not French, so his studying up French has been in vain.

Feliciano and Lovino Vargas***, brothers apparently from Italy, they only design male clothing and they ranked last on Arthur's list. Kaoru Wong from Hong Kong, who mainly designs female clothing with an Asian twist. Yekaterina Braginski from the Ukraine ranks third on Arthur's list as the only female designer on the list, she mainly designs fall and winter clothing. Being from Eastern Europe, that's not much of a surprise. Next is some person called Mathew Williams from some country near America, he designs mainly sports' clothing. Second from Greece, Heracles Karpusi only designs female clothing. And, first on Arthur's list, is Francis Bonnefoy; whom designs anything from women clothing to even toddlers clothing.

As Arthur walked out of Paris' airport, he couldn't help, but sigh for he could tell from his research that each designer will be bloody difficult in their own special bloody ways.

After hailing a cab and giving the driver his hotel's directions, Arthur took a look at his schedule while taking a quick glance at his watch. _'Only 3 hours to go before the __**ball **__starts.'_

* * *

><p>"The awesome me cannot believe that you managed to talk me into going to this stupid party!" complained the albino as he checked himself out in a mirror. "But, I admit, I am more awesome than usual."<p>

"Oui, you're awesome Gilbert, but please, behave yourself tonight. I'm already nervous enough." sighed the Frenchman of the group as he managed to steal some mirror time from Gilbert, so he could tie his hair into a loose ponytail.

"Chill, dude, you sound like Elizabeta now." tsk-ed Gilbert as he pulled Francis' wrist from his ponytail and turned Francis to face him directly. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself, and so will Tony; everything will be alright." assured Gilbert as he patted Francis' chest making it look like he was smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles; but was really slipping something into Francis' pocket.

"Merci, Gilbert." thanked Francis, before his hands attacked the albino's hair. "What are we going to do with your hair?!" chuckled Francis as he patted it down and slicked it back.

"Nichts!" shouted Gilbert as he jumped back from Francis and ruffled his hair. "The awesome me looks better with ruffled hair, besides no one can see Gilbird like this." as soon as Gilbert's mention of Gilbird, the little bird chirped from inside the Prussian's messy silver hair. It's a wonder how Francis' didn't manage to hurt the little bird on accident.

"Fine, I won't do anything. . . " assured Francis with a smile, not surprised that Gilbird was coming along. "Antonio, mon ami, are you almost ready?"

"Si, I am~." sang Antonio as he walked into the room, with a tuxedo matching Francis and Gilbert's but with a green theme for the tie and handkerchief to match his green eyes.

"Then what are waiting for?! Let's go party!" announced Gilbert as he kicked open the door with his friends in tow.

* * *

><p>Wonder who's paying for the door . . . .<p>

* * *

><p>"Never in a bloody lifetime would I imagine coming to an important event such as this, dressed as a bloody female!" hissed Arthur as he and fellow journalists, Kiku Honda (not dressed as a female though Arthur thinks he should be, but darn Japanese modesty), and Ludwig. Just Ludwig, no last name, dressed as a male, too masculine not to be otherwise. Besides, it would be creepy if he was.<p>

Kiku, even though the male is a little on the petit side; he follows the typical Japanese stereotype. Kiku has plain brown eyes, plain black hair and light skin, once again, plain and stereotypical. Ludwig also follows the typical German stereotype; light blond hair, blue eyes, light skin, and with a muscular built to tie it in together.

"Just grin, and bear with it, remember this is the only head start we get. Tomorrow will be fair game." reminded Ludwig.

"I agree with Ludwig." agreed Kiku, not like he ever disagrees anyways.

"I know." Arthur hissed, as he so happened trip over his own two feet for the third time since getting out of the car. "Wearing heels is hard, how do women manage to do it is beyond me." complained Arthur as he regained his balance and followed closely behind Ludwig and Kiku.

"They don't complain." stated Ludwig as he came into a halt, making Arthur crash into his back. Ludwig chose to ignore, Arthur's colorful vocabulary. "Before we infatuate, we know our assigned and the questions to be asked, correct?"

Both Arthur and Kiku nodded.

"Very good, but whatever you two, do not blow your covers! And, above all, get your assigned jobs done."

And with that, the three parted as soon as they gained access to the party.

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><p>*Let's just say I have a grudge against trolleys . . . But, I must say missing the trolley was one of my most memorable life experiences. Never would have imagined to meet so many culturally diverse group of people and to have made friends with them, even though some were pretty old.<p>

** My friends used more or less the same phrases during an argument, which went on for 5 minutes and yet no one but me noticed they were rhyming, sadly I only remember those three phrases. Oh, before I forget, they were throwing tomatoes at each others . . . Debo was not very happy.

*** I know some people who have Vargas as a last name and well they're not Italian . . . or have Italian blood. Let's stick with that. So, I'm kinda iffy with if Vargas is really Italian. Does anyone know if it is or not?


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia.

**Chapter Rating:** T

**Translations: Correct if you like.**

**(Ukrainian, French)** _Пан, Monsieur_ – Mr.

**(French)**_ Mademoiselle_ - Miss

**(Russian)** _Cестра_ – sister

**(German) **_erledigt_ – done

**(Greek) **_δεκάρα, χαριτωμένο _– damn, You're cute

**(Spanish)** _Perdón!_ - Sorry

**(French) **_Vrai, faux_ – true, false

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

Arthur Kirkland was having second thoughts. You know those seconds thoughts that keep saying, _'This can go very wrong. And, it will.'_ Nice to know that Arthur was being positive.

Though, Arthur wished he could follow his gut, this was not the time, nor the place to have cold feet. So, as any sane man would do, he was already half way through the plan, might as well see it through to the end and find the blasted devil people on his list. Those devil people also known as; Yekaterina Braginski and Francis Bonnefoy.

Miss Braginski did not seem at all bad to Arthur from what he has read, but there one big reason why she is on the blasted devil list. . . . Her younger brother is her body guard. A Russian body guard that is a very protective younger brother . . . Nice for her, but not nice for those who wish to get close to her, much less to_ ask_ questions. _Monsieur_ Bonnefoy was on the list because well. . . He was a blasted French party boy. And, anyone who is French and party boy do not sit well with Arthur.

After a few moments of scanning the ballroom for Yekaterina, or the party boy; guess who Arthur spotted first? Francis Bonnefoy was across the room from where Arthur was standing, who was also shamelessly flirting anything that moved. Seriously.

From Arthur's perceptive, the bloody French man has no shame, nor any pride and honor. _'I hate to be one of those poor tricked girls used by him.'_

"How nice to see you again Mademoiselle Braginski~" welcomed a deep French accented voice, as the French man bowed and kissed Miss Braginski's hand, despite the fact her scary bodyguard was present. And, looking overly scary today.

"Nice to see you again, Пан Bonnefoy. How have you been?" giggled Yekaterina, paying no hend to the frown on her bodyguard's face.

"Très bien! Yourself?" asked Francis, as he flashed a smile towards Yekaterina; then someone behind Yekaterina caught his eye. From a distance, the woman seem to be looking for something, though Francis did a double take and could not shake the feeling of annoyance radiating from the woman's stare, well more like glare.

"Cестра, we should get going now." interrupted Yekaterina's brother as he blocked Francis' view of the other side of the room.

"That time already!" gasped Yekaterina as she slipped a quick look at her wrist watch. "My, I really must be going. I'll see you soon, Пан Bonnefoy." said Yekaterina as she began to depart with her bodyguard.

"Au revoir, Mademoiselle, but please call me Francis next time." Francis said as he gave a little wave goodbye to the retreating figures going through the crowd.

Francis received no reply, but that was fine with him, for he knows he will probably see the Ukrainian with her Russian brother tomorrow. So, with a shrug, Francis decided to go to the bar.

However, as he neared the bar, someone tapped on his shoulder.

"Hm~ Who do I own the pleasure of a _bonjour_ to~?" sang Francis as he turned around and came face to face with the person from across the room earlier.

"Are you Monsieur Bonnefoy?" asked the person with a thick British accent.

"Oui, and who are you?" asked Francis as he evaluated the person in front of him.

The Brit seem to be about five foot six, maybe seven with heels on. Long, blond hair. Bright, emerald eyes with pale skin. But, the most noticeable feature of the person was their big, brushy eyebrows. The eyebrows seemed very familiar to Francis, but he could not place where he have seen them before. And, by the way the dress hugged at the waist, the cloth was obviously trying to hide something. Though, the hideous makeup took Francis' attention back to the Brit's face.

* * *

><p>"Alice Smith." replied the the shorter of the two.<p>

"You have very pretty eyes." commented Francis without thinking, while staring directly into the Brit's green eyes.

Despite the glowing heat in Arthur's cheeks from the compliment, he managed to keep the growing blush at bay as he continued on.

"Merci, monsieur." thanked Arthur, as he noticed the Frenchman's eyes examining him from head to toe. . . for a second time.

_'Probably seeing if I have fashion taste or something of the like.' _thought Arthur as he suppressed an eye roll.

"Monsieur, if you do not mind, would you like to come and talk to me out on the balcony?" Cliché, but that was where Ludwig said to take him, for it was semi-private and Arthur would not be entirely alone with the Frenchman who had a not so great reputation with women, or men for that matter.

"Oui, as you like, Mademoiselle." replied the Frenchman slowly, as he took Arthur by the waist.

_'OH BLOODY HELL!'_

"In the way of the balcony is the dance floor, so we must dance to get across." Francis explained with a gentle pull to bring Arthur towards him on the dance floor, to which Arthur hopelessly followed. "So, what do you say Alice?" asked Francis as he gave a bow to Arthur, as the orchestra began preparing for their next song.

Which happened to a slow dance. _'How much more cliché can this bloody get?!'_

"I would love to, but I have no idea how to dance." Arthur admitted, ballroom dancing was not something a journalist needed as a skill. Though it should be now.

"Not to worry, I will lead." assured Francis as he put Arthur's hands in their places and took his position.

* * *

><p>"Vee~ Fratello, aren't you going to dance, or at least flirt?" asked a ditzy Italian as he hung around his older brother. "There's so many beautiful women here~ Lovi, are you listening?"<p>

"Like I care! I just want to leave!" shouted the older Italian as he scanned the room. Most guests were either in pairs, or in large groups; and Lovino did not like meeting new people. Or, people for that matter.

"Why~?" asked Lovino's younger brother, Feliciano, with a slight whine.

"I just fuckin' don't, got that?!" snapped Lovino, earning a whimper from his younger brother.

"Excuse me, I hope I am not interrupting anything, but are you two Feliciano and Lovino Vargas?" interrupted a deep German accented voice from behind Lovino.

"Perché sì, you are interr-" Lovino's rant was cut off by Feliciano's cheerful greeting.

"You're huge!" Feli has his own kind of greeting. . . . Which earned him a confused expression from the stranger.

"D-danke?" stuttered the stranger, he was not used to people being so cheerful, even at a party.

"What's your name?" asked Feliciano, completely ignoring the stranger's personal space, earning a tsk from his older brother.

"Ludwig." Ludwig answered before he could stop himself, _'Well, there goes the plan.'_ Ludwig mentally slapped himself.

"Ciao Ludwig~" Feliciano paid no heed to his new friend's strange behavoir, "My name is Feliciano, but you can call me Feli~." Feliciano said with a huge smile, and with a lot of hand motions, "And this my brother, Lovino, you can call him Lovi~."

"No, he can't." snapped Lovino, scaring his younger brother a bit.

"But, Lovi!" whined Feliciano giving his brother a tearful expression, which earned a grunt from Lovino.

"Don't play that card with me!" yelled Lovino, completely ignoring Feliciano's tears.

Ludwig, however, just stood there between the two Italians, watching the scene that was unfolding before him . . . . Why did he choose the Italian brothers? It had seemed simple at first, but with their little "scene" escalating at this pace, Ludwig might be an accessory to a murder . . . or, the murdered. Or, the suicidal one. Which ever came first.

After a few moments, with Ludwig still watching, Lovino did finally put his foot down, "Fine, suit yourself, have fun with your _new best friend_. I'm out~" And with that Lovino strolled towards a group of girls on the other side of ballroom.

Once Lovino disappeared into the crowd of people; Ludwig finally snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention to Feliciano, who was sitting on the ground, crying his eyes out. So, with a quick look for the crowd around them, for some reason no one paid any attention to the two Italians fighting in the middle of the room, so with a deep sigh, Ludwig kneel down next to the crying Italian.

"Are you alright?" asked Ludwig, rather awkwardly, while pulling out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and offering it to Feliciano.

Feliciano weakly nodded, but made no move to take the handkerchief from Ludwig. So, with an awkward expression on his face, Ludwig took it upon himself to wipe away the Italian's tears with his handkerchief. Once that was done, Ludwig put the handkerchief in front of Feliciano's nose, "Blow." Feliciano did as he was told.

"Erledigt." said Ludwig as he stood up while hauling Feliciano back to standing position. "How about I buy you a drink?" offered Ludwig.

Feliciano smiled, "Vee~ Will there be pasta?!"

* * *

><p>So far, Kiku has completed two out of three that he was assigned to . . . More like, he assigned to himself. Kiku did the assignments this time around, and from a glance, he could tell who would be difficult and who would not be; as well who had a good chance ending up together. That was the main reason why he took it upon himself to be in charge of the assignments this time around.<p>

Anyways, the first target for Kiku was Mathew Williams, who took quite awhile to find, it was as though he blended in with the wall . . . Weird, Kiku admits that he's a bit on the bland side, but he could never possibility blend that well with a wall, even if he was a ninja.

Well, Williams proved to be a little bit on the boring side, Kiku only took five minutes with the poor fellow.

After Williams was Kaoru Wong, and well, to simply put it, Wong was also quite bland, even by Kiku's standards. He took about 3 minutes to interview, he didn't talk much.

Despite getting boring targets, Kiku was almost done with his assignment and if luck was on his side, he would have a good five hours to dazzle up each interview and have them sent to the presses in Japan by sunrise. And, not France's sunrise.

All he needed to find was Heracles Karpusi . . . When Kiku signed in, he saw that Karpusi was indeed present at the party for his name was highlighted. But, he was proving much more difficult to find than Williams.

After a good hour of searching, Kiku took a deep breath and decided to rest his feet at an empty table that he spotted at the edge of the ballroom.

_'I wonder where he could be?' _thought Kiku to himself as he took a seat, _'Perhaps, he has already left?'_

Then all of a sudden a _thud_ could be heard from underneath the table, snapping Kiku's out of his thoughts.

"δεκάρα." cursed a voice from beneath the table where Kiku was sitting. So, with a quick glance to his right and left, Kiku decided to check who was under his table.

And, Kiku came face to face with a pair of light forest green eyes. A deep blush came upon Kiku's face before he could tear his eyes away from the other in front of him. While the stranger just stared back with a look of indifference on his face.

After a few moments of eye searching, "Είσαι χαριτωμένο." stated the stranger.

Kiku blinked a few times, "What does that mean?" asked a confused Kiku.

"I'll tell you as soon as I get up." promised the stranger with an accent Kiku could not place.

Once both were comforable, a very awkward silence came between the two.

"Oh," said the stranger after a few more awkward moments came between them, "I forgot, my name is Heracles Karpusi." greeted Heracles, and for some odd reason, very slowly.

"K-kiku Honda." Kiku mentally slapped himself as he remembered he was suppose to giving him his fake name . . . So much for the plan.

"Well, Honda-san, you are very cute." stated Heracles.

Kiku did not which to reply to first; he was blushing madly because of Heracles' compliment, but he also felt like asking how Heracles knew to use Japanese honorifics correctly.

He decided to go with the less embarrassing one, "Where did you learn to use Japanese honorifics correctly?" asked Kiku after slightly recovering from the _"cute"_ compliment.

"Anime." came Heracles' curt reply.

"Oh." Kiku mentally slapped himself again, _'Of course.'_ However, the slap was not just for obvious answer, but because he needed to get a hold of himself, his heart was still beating fast from a simple compliment; one that he had gotten tons of times before. Albeit, the compliments were mainly from family. Okay, they were only from his family.

Another moment of silence came between the two . . . . So, Kiku took this time to calm down and snatch a quick look over of the person he was suppose to be interviewing, but for some reason was having a hard time to.

Most fashion designers have their photos taken all the day, sometimes even more so than fashion models, so Kiku has seen a photo of Heracles before, but couldn't remember if Heracles, well, looked as handsome as he did now.

With curly, light brown hair, those gorgeous forest green eyes, olive complexion; and Kiku could even see how tone Heracles was from a simple glance. Kiku gave himself another mental slap for thinking of such things.

"Say Kiku," interrupted Heracles from Kiku's thoughts.

"Yes." completely at ease, despite the lack of honorific to his name, much less the use of his first name.

"Are you the same Kiku Honda as the journalist?" asked Heracles.

It took Kiku a moment to reply, but he did so truthfully. "Yes."

Another silence came between the two, but it was not awkward as the other ones, albeit still awkward, but not as much.

"Say, Kiku," interrupted Heracles again, only this time getting a nod from Kiku. "Would you go on a date with me?"

* * *

><p>Lovino got bored of flirting with the group of girls after about ten minutes. They were mainly giggling on how handsome every man at the party was, <em>especially<em> Francis Bonnefoy, and that blond hair stranger that took his brother away.

So, Lovino slowly backed away from the group trying to escape, but ended up backing into someone else. _'Better not be a giggling maniac.' _thought Lovino as he turned around to apologize.

Only to turn around to face, some idiot with a huge smile on his face. "I'm sorry about bumping into you like that." apologized the man with a laugh.

"You better be." snapped Lovino, quickly marking the end of the stranger's laugh.

"Si, I am." said the stranger seriously, as took a good look at Lovino . . . Which irked Lovino. But then again, what doesn't irk Lovino?

"What is it you bastard?!" Lovino yelled as he snapped again at the stranger.

"Name is Antonio Hernandez-Carriedo." greeted Antonio with a huge smile reappearing on his face, as he held his hand towards Lovino. "Nice to meet you. What's your name?"

Lovino did what any gentleman would do; he slapped Antonio's hand away and introduced himself. "Lovino Vargas."

"Are you Spanish, or Mexican?" asked Antonio innocently still with his huge smile, ignoring the fact that Lovino is not pleased to meet him.

"What the fuck?! I'm fuckin' Italian, not fuckin' Spanish or fuckin' Mexican! What makes you think that?" asked a very mad Lovino, really no loves having their ethnicity* questioned, especially someone as proud as Lovino for being Italian.

"¡Perdón! I just assumed because of your last name." apologized Antonio.

"Uh huh," Lovino said suspiciously of the Spaniard now. "And, why do you care if I'm a Spaniard or a Mexican?" asked Lovino with his eyes made into slits.

"I was hoping I could speak in my native language~" answered Antonio, then he decided to change the subject, "Say, want to get a drink with me?" asked Antonio.

"If, you're paying." answered Lovino.

"Of course, I am offering."

* * *

><p>Arthur has never been as tired in his entire life. Instead of one simple dance to get across the dance floor to the balcony, the damn Frenchman convinced him to keep dancing for another five dances. And boy, were the heels disagreeing with him before, they were planning murder now.<p>

_'Wonder how Ludwig and Kiku are doing.' _thought Arthur as he started to catch his breath. At least the Frenchman had the decency to take him outside for a breath while he went to get some refreshments.

After finally catching his breath, Arthur could not help but notice how bright the moon was. "It's so much brighter than in London." commented Arthur aloud.

"But, of course, London is deeply covered in smog, and we are in beautiful Paris." interrupted an annoying French accented voice.

_'Must not let him get to me.'_ thought Arthur to himself before he said a combat in his most girly voice he could muster. "Is not Paris also covered in smog?" replied Arthur as he took the glass offered to him by Francis.

"Vrai." answered Francis as he took a spot next to Arthur, and took a sip of his wine with his eyes close. "But, Paris is beautiful is it not?"

"Not as beautiful as London." answered Arthur before he took a sip from his drink.

"Faux, we are both wrong." exclaimed Francis, scaring Arthur a bit.

"What's more beautiful than London and Paris then?" questioned Arthur.

Francis only smiled as he got closer to Arthur and laid his glass on the balcony, however, Arthur stood his ground. "There are many things much more beautiful than London and Paris put together . . ." Francis started off slowly, "Your eyes shine so bright they put the moon to shame, your accent puts even the most exotic accent to shame, even your eyebrows puts Mona Lisa's to shame. **" explained Francis, each example bringing him an inch closer to Arthur, who has been frozen in place and was blushing madly. "But, what is even more beautiful, is how dedicated you are to your job as a journalist is, Ar-thur Kirk-land."

Arthur's heart was racing just a few seconds ago, but as soon as the last sentence left ever so nearing lips to his ears, his heart literally stopped. "Did you know from the beginning?" asked Arthur with his voice shaking.

"More or less, your eyebrows gave you away." answered Francis with a shrug.

_'Damn, I should have listened to Kiku!'_ Arthur mentally slapped himself for possibility the second time tonight.

"So, Arthur, may I take off your makeup?" asked Francis suddenly.

"Why?" asked Arthur suspiciously.

"It's ghastly." stated Francis as a matter of fact. Though Arthur admits, the makeup did feel a little heavy, and according to the makeup articles that he read on the plane, makeup is not suppose to feel heavy.

Arthur only nodded. And, Francis wasted no time, he had his handkerchief already in hand, only to have it taken away from Arthur last minute, "I'll take off my own makeup." stated Arthur.

"Suit yourself." shrugged Francis.

After Francis got in a few moments of thoughtful silence while Arthur took off his makeup, Francis had the best idea in the whole world.

"Say Arthur, let us make a deal." suggested Francis.

"What kind of deal?" asked Arthur, slightly muffled by the handkerchief.

"I'll answer all the questions for your interview, I'll even throw in a few photos and my life story if you do something for me." Arthur was intrigued, but not brought.

"And, what do I have to do?" asked Arthur while he eyed Francis.

"Do you wish to have my interview, or must I take it to another magazine?" asked Francis with a smirk.

Arthur was now faced with two choices; let his big promotion go and never succeed his life's goal, or get the promotion and perhaps do the most embarrassing favor in his life . . . . .

Promotion sounds awfully better than no promotion.

"Deal me in, frog." answered Arthur after a few moments of weighing his options.

* * *

><p>* - I have mine questioned every day, so I am quite familiar with this feeling. . . . Not so great.<p>

** - Way to be cheesy France!

**Reviewer Responses:**

**yay** – You can always make an account? Anyways, I'm glad you like so far, I actually do too and normally I don't. Hoped you enjoyed this very late chapter.

**OreoPandas** – I swear, I recognize your username from somewhere . . . Oh well, glad you like so far too.

**RoyStealer **– I have a habit of reading reviewer's profiles and after I read yours . . . I feel very honored. Thanks for loving my story so far.

**Ree** – Thanks Ree for pointing out the mistake, but of course I read it too late. D: Glad you like too and sorry for a late update.

**Who cares** – I don't if I should feel offended by your choice of an username, or not. . . . And you don't say, for some odd reason I have a Spanish last name . . . Along with a Russian one. . . Odd mix.

Yeah, before you guys point it out and make fun of me, I realized that I posted the prologue twice and did realize my mistake till a month later . . . So, after I fixed that, I decided to wait and post this one after I get about 3 reviews for Chapter 1. . . Did not happen most likely because of the mistake so I decided to post this one. So, sorry it's late. . . Not really.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia, or it's characters.

**Chapter Rating: **T

**Translations: **Brought to you by Google, except for simple phrases in French and Spanish.

**(German)** _gut _– good

**(Italian)** _Mi dispiace_- I'm sorry

**(Spanish)** _¿__Donde tas?_- Where are(were) you?

**(German)** Ich denke – I guess

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

When Arthur woke up the next morning after the party, he, for some odd reason, had a huge smile upon his face. Why he was smiling was beyond him. For now, Arthur just explained the unnatural phenomenon on the fact that he was bloody tired when got to the hotel earlier that morning and that his sleep was that much more restful. And, him waking up smiling had nothing to do with the promotion he was dreaming about before he a woke.

No need to jinx his goal, before it even got started.

Arthur had his smile on all morning, it got even bigger after his cup of tea, till he received a certain phone call.

As soon as he saw the caller I.D., his smile went down to fifty percent. _Aengus Kirkland . . . ._

"Hello?" asked Arthur cautiously, Aengus calling this early from London, meant trouble for him . . .

"Where's my interviews?" Aengus went straight to business. Aengus wasn't the type to yell, like Arthur was, but when Aengus was unhappy, you can hear, heck, you can smell it through the phone. And the smell was not due to his breath being smelly.

"Which one?" asked Arthur trying to buy some more time before having to explain to Aengus about his deal with that blasted Frenchman.

"All of them. I just got a call from the German and Japanese publishing firms of our parents' company stating that they have not received anything from last night." From what Arthur could hear, it seems that Aengus took a break to light a cigar. "Why is that?" asked Aengus quite calmly that his tone made Arthur worry more than before.

All three of them, Ludwig, Kiku and himself left the party together, since Ludwig is the only one qualified to drive in France . . . . Well, to put it simply, Arthur was a little ditzy, and Kiku does not like driving non-Japanese cars, so it only left Ludwig to drive. Besides the point, it took a good hour to drive to the hotel, so they all had about twenty minutes each to explain what went on. . . Well, Arthur and Ludwig did, Kiku refused to talk, though he was red the entire ride home, talking to himself in Japanese, so Ludwig and Arthur just filled in the blanks.

* * *

><p>"Vee~~ Germany sounds like so much fun, especially with all those beer baths that you can take there!" laughed a preppy Italian.<p>

"You've never been to Germany?" asked Ludwig with a slight smile, despite the fact that Ludwig was not the type to express his emotions it's just that Feliciano was contagious to a degree.

"Nope, this is my first time leaving Italy in awhile, though I've lived in Austria . . . Or, was it Hungary? Vee~ I don't remember!" answered Feliciano with a huge smile, which got even bigger when he saw the waiter coming with his third plate of pasta.

So far, Ludwig has spent a good two hours with the Italian, and he absolutely, could not figure him out. Other than that, Feliciano seemed awfully familiar to him. But, he has never been to Italy, and since Feliciano has never been to Germany, it seems unlikely that they have met before . . . . .

But, besides the point, he has spent two hours with the Italian, and it seems as though that Feliciano is getting an interview out of him, and not the other way. If it continues this way, then he would never get an interview with Feliciano . . . . So, despite it going against the plan, Ludwig decided to let the cat out of the bag and tell Feliciano why he was there in the first place.

"Feli-" Ludwig started to say, but was cut off by Feliciano talking with his mouth full with pasta.

"Ludwig, are you that famous journalist from Germany?" asked Feliciano.

At first, Ludwig just blinked at a smiling Feliciano, shocked over the fact that either Feliciano can read minds, or he is much more observant than he first thought.

"How did you find out?" asked Ludwig slowly, frustrated that his cover was blown, possibly for quite awhile now, probably from the moment that he mentioned his name was Ludwig and nothing else.

"You paid the bill using your company's credit card." answered Feliciano with a huge smile and a pasta sauce covered face.

Or, Feliciano can read in English. . . . .

That was a slap in the face for Ludwig, a mental one that is. Well, at least Ludwig does not have to break the ice now. "Well," Ludwig cleared his voice, "Since, you know that, do you mind doing an interview for my magazine?" asked Ludwig.

"I don't mind~" answered Feliciano with a bright smile.

"Um, very gut. Where should I start?" Ludwig began by asking himself where he had placed those questions from earlier.

"HEY!" yelled a very loud Italian from across the dining room.

"LOVI~~~!" Feliciano shouted happily, standing up from his chair, flapping his arms like maniac at his brother. "Over here!"

"Feli, let's go home." shouted back Lovino, staying where he was.

"Okay~" shouted back Feliciano, then he looked back at Ludwig. "Mi dispiace, Ludwig, can we do this another time?" apologized Feliciano.

"Ja, we can." Ludwig answered as he took out his business card from his coat's pocket. "Call me when you have the time." said Ludwig as he handed his business card to Feliciano and stood up from his seat to shake his hand goodbye.

"OKAY~~~" said Feliciano happily, "Can I give you a goodbye kiss?" asked Feliciano innocently, completely ignoring Ludwig's hand that was already posed.

"A k-kiss?" stuttered Ludwig, getting slightly red.

"Si!"

"Ja, I guess."

And, with that, Feliciano went in front of Ludwig, standing on his tipsy toes, trying to give Ludwig a kiss, but could not reach because of their height difference. "Ludwig, do you mind?" whined Feliciano.

"Nicht." said Ludwig as he bent down slightly so Feliciano could finally reach his cheeks. So, with a kiss on each cheek, Feliciano waved his goodbye to Ludwig and walked towards his very angry older brother.

* * *

><p>"According to Ludwig, he should be getting the interview with the Vargas brothers later this afternoon." answered Arthur, after recalling what had happened to Ludwig the night before.<p>

"And, Mr. Honda?" asked Aengus with a hint of impatience in his voice.

"I believe he has that person from Canada and the other from Hong Kong interviews. Currently, he is with Hercules having breakfast, after wards he should also have the interview ready by this afternoon." answered Arthur, getting annoyed over the fact that while he was recalling the stories from night before, that it seemed that thanks for the plan not working, not any of them mind you, they all have dates now.

"And, you?" finally asked Aengus, Arthur swears that he can smell the smoke from Aengus' cigar from over the phone.

"Francis Bonnefoy said last night that he wishes to have his interview on his own terms, I will have lunch with him later today, and if all goes well, we will also have a photo shoot and his life story as well."

"And, the Ukrainian's interview?"

"She was not present at the party last night." Despite it being a lie, Arthur really did not find her the night before, and according to Francis she left as soon as he arrived.

"I want everything by Wednesday." said Aengus before hanging up and leaving Arthur with a frown. Smile down to fifth-teen percent.

* * *

><p>"Bonjour mes amis, how did both your nights go?" Francis asked while he mixed pancake batter when he noticed both his two best friends in the world walked into the kitchen, one with a huge smile and one with a huge smirk. Because, Gilbert doesn't smile, only smirks.<p>

"Perfect!" answered Antonio cheerfully with a even bigger smile than a few seconds again.

"Alright." replied the Prussian of the trio with a even bigger smirk than he was wearing just moments ago. While any normal person would be afraid of their best friends having suspicious smiles or smirks, Francis was not as he continued making his pancakes for himself and his best friends.

"So, which of us are going to go first?" asked Francis after slowly pouring one of his world's famous pancakes.

"The awesome me of course!" stated Gilbert before Antonio even had a chance to process Francis' question.

"Hey, that's no fair!" Antonio shouted, his smile faltering.

"Do not worry mon ami, we will all get our chance." assured Francis with another pancake slowly being poured onto the stove.

"Then, I'm next." pouted Antonio, yet he still retained his smile.

"So, there I was." started Gilbert.

"¿Donde tas?" asked Antonio innocently disrupting Gilbert's storytelling mood.

"FINE, tell ya story Tony!" shouted Gilbert, as he sat on his seat with a loud trump and with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His smirk was all but visible.

"Okay~!" said Antonio with a huge smile, and before he had a chance to take a deep breath to begin his story, Gilbert slammed against the kitchen table.

"No, it's not 'okay,' I want to tell my story!" Gilbert shouted.

"But, Gilbert you just said it was okay!" whined Antonio as he flinched at Gilbert's sudden outburst.

"I nev-" Gilbert was cut off by a plate of delicious looking pancakes in front of his face which slowly set on his part of the table.

"Calm down you two, it's too early in the morning to argue." interrupted Francis while he handed Antonio's plate to him, whom received it with the biggest smile since he walked into the kitchen. It doesn't take much to get Antonio to smile.

"Ich denke." agreed Gilbert, but only did so in order to get started on his pancakes. "Where's my sausage?" Though, before he could actually finish his question, Francis had set up his sausages beside his pancakes.

"Since, breakfast is short, may I suggest that we each tell each other whom we've met and our plans?" suggested Francis as he sat down in the last seat in the kitchen.

"Can I go first?" asked Antonio with his hand raised like he was back in kindergarten.

"Oui." answered Francis with a smile, while he eyed Gilbert from the corner of his eyes.

"Was?" asked Gilbert feeling very uncomfortable under Francis' graze with his mouth full with his syrup covered pancakes. Francis simply gave Gilbert an eye roll.

"His name is Lovino Vargas~!" shouted Antonio with the biggest smile that his best friends had ever seen, both Francis and Gilbert would be lying if they say that they weren't blinded for just a moment. Since Antonio smiles quite a lot, he gets his teeth whiten every 3 months, yesterday he so happened to have them whiten.

"L-lovino?" asked Francis a little bit nervously after he recovered from his temporary blindness.

"Si~!"

"Mon ami, what do you exactly like about Lovino?"

"He's adorable!" answered Antonio. Antonio may be oblivious but Gilbert was a tad suspicious about Francis' nervousness.

"What's wrong Francis?" asked Gilbert after he slowly set down his utensils onto his plate.

Francis shook his head and gave a smile towards Antonio, "Do you two have plans for a rendez-vous?" asked Francis.

Antonio nodded.

"Good for you mon ami, Lovino is a hard catch."

"I know~!" giggled Antonio like a little school girl.

"Now that Tony's done, the awesome me can tell my story right?" asked Gilbert impatiently while he cut off Antonio's giggling fit.

"Si."

"FINALLY!" Gilbert shouted as he stood up from his seat. "So, guess why many I wooed last night?" asked Gilbert hoping to make his friends jealous.

"Deux?" guessed Francis while he held up two fingers.

"Zero?" guessed Antonio as he started giggling again.

"Ein." answered Gilbert trying to ignore Francis and Antonio's lame guesses while he simply held up one finger.

Both of his friends simply stared at Gilbert, neither wanting to offend him over the sad number of woos, well one woo in this case, considering that last night's party had very well over 500 guests. Gilbert simply took his best friends' silence as jealousy and gave them both a smirk and carried on to his story.

"A good two hours into the party, I flirted with all the sexy girls on the dance floor, but honestly none of them were a ten, so I decided that I'll take a little break and find one of those waiters with the drinks." Gilbert took a moment to check if his friends were listening, Francis was reading the newspaper, while Antonio drew on his napkin . . . Good enough for him. "So, after looking for an eternity I finally found one of them and this person was a definite zehn." Gilbert announced quite proudly.

"Did you ask them for their name?" asked Francis momentarily looking up from the newspaper.

"The awesome me is getting to that." Gilbert stated. "It ended up that the server person was the one actually in charge, so after I put on my charm, he agreed to sit with me for dinner."

"And, who is he?" asked Francis again, even though by this point of the story he already knew who Gilbert was talking about.

"Toris something or rather, he's Lithuanian, which is not awesome because his last name is too hard to pronounce."

Francis gave a little frown on knowing that his guess was wrong.

"Anyways, after ordering we talked for awhile, and I came to know that he owns that fancy cafe on main street."

"Which one?" asked Francis, considering how long Gilbert has lived in Paris he should know that there are multiple cafes on main street and all of them are fancy.

Gilbert frowned at yet another interruption from Francis, so he simply took out his wallet and pulled out a card with the cafe's name on it. "Here." And with that, the card traded hands.

"Anyways, half through our perfectly good meal, some fuckin' Russian walked by and he recognized Toris and butted into our conversation." Gilbert pouted.

"Gilbert please tell me you didn't say anything to him?"

"Ja, so he got up from his seat and so did I."

"What happened next?" sighed Francis.

"We exchanged a few words." smirked Gilbert.

Francis face palmed himself, so much for behaving. He was wondering why Gilbert was waiting outside when it was time to leave. "By any chance, did you catch his name?"

"Ivan Brag-whatever." answered Gilbert while he got up to look in Francis' fridge for some beer, "Yo, Francis, where's the beer? I only see your wimpy ass wine in here!"

Francis gave himself another face palmed with a sigh. "Of course." Gilbert continued on looking through Francis' kitchen for some beer, and Antonio flipped onto the other side of napkin to draw another tomato. Francis simply looked in between his two best friends and with another sigh looked at clock near hallway towards his living room.

_10:03_

_'Better time than never to call Arthur.'_ Francis thought with a smile as he took out his cell phone and laid the card that he had gotten from Gilbert just moments ago in front of him.

_*ring * *ring * *ri-*_

"About time you frog." answered a very irriated voice.

"What's this? Missing me already?" teased Francis.

"Whatever." Francis gave a slight smile at Arthur's tone, "Where are we meeting?" asked Arthur.

"Do you have a pen and paper to write this down? You only have one chance." asked Francis as he teased Arthur, though him asking was only for courtesy for he only gave Arthur a few seconds before he started reading off the directions to him in rapid French.

* * *

><p><strong>Review Responses: <strong>

**Illusion fox – **Don't worry, I'm not about to dump another fanfic, I'm determined to finish this one.

**MDWOLFGIRL – **And that's not even the whole party, but I'm getting some parts to use as awesome flashbacks.

**Yay –** I swear that Francis is not going to do anything inappropriate to Arthur. . . Yet.

**Dawnstar94 – **Got it your review :P You're welcome for the reply and thanks, I don't think most reviewers really appreciate when I reply back, but really by me replying it's me saying 'thanks for reading.' And, I'll be waiting for your message, though I think it may be easier for you to make a new account.

**So, this is my birthday present, I was planning to share with you guys on my birthday (Aug. 30) but then I realized, "Hey, it's my birthday today!" Which in turn, this is a few days late, but hey you guys can't complain. :P**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia and all that other stuff I'm suppose to type here.

**Chapter Rating:** T+. Aww, Gilbert and Lovino, how we all love your interesting choice of words.

**A/N:** I know this chapter is all over the place, but I feel bad for not giving you guys anything since September. Bear with me.

**Translations: **Sorry, I got lazy this time around.

* * *

><p>Chapter 4<p>

At some point in our lives, whether it has happened yet, or not; we have all been, or will be stood up. Whether it was by a date, or your study group; being stood up is not a joyful experience. Especially, if it was a date . . .

Or, as Arthur calls it, a meeting. Not in any way resembling a date. Even though, it is.

"I am already here, you frog! Where the hell are you?" asked an irriated Arthur while he tap his right foot quickly and violently, while looking down at his wrist watch. "I have been here for a good hour. Are you coming, or not?"

The said frog on the other side of line, violently looked up from his work to a clock on a nearby wall. The hands on the little Felix the cat clock read 4:21.

It was not exactly late by his- French terms, Francis was only a good half an hour late. So, with a shrug Francis turned his attention back to his work, finalizing the design he was working on.

"Frog, are you there?"

"Oui, I will be there in about cinq minuts. Please be patient till I arrive." And, with that, Francis hung up the phone before Arthur could even comment.

_'Damn frog!' _thought Arthur a few moments after he recovered from the shock of being hung up on.

No one in the whole world has ever done that Arthur Kirkland. Well, besides his brothers, mother, father, grandparents, Alfred, Ludwig . . . . . That's besides the point, Arthur does not like being hung up on, not one little bit.

With a huff, Arthur stood up from his seat dropping it in the process. Though, before he managed to do anything else, the owner of the cute, little Lithuanian-French cafe, was standing by Arthur's table.

"Does there seem to be a problem, sir?" asked the owner with a worried look upon his face.

Suddenly, a deep blush of embarrassment appeared on Arthur's face while he stood where he was, his hands were still on the table from what he could see, since he was looking directly down.

"U-um . . . N-no." stuttered Arthur as he absent minded sat down, before he remembered that he had knocked down his chair just moments before. _'Shit, this going to hurt.'_

Arthur braced himself for the fall, only to feel that he buttocks landed on something soft. So, opening his eyes, Arthur looked down to see that he landed on the chair from earlier and not on the ground. _'How the bloody hell?' _asked Arthur to himself. Only to hear an annoying French accented voice.

"Mon cheri, that was a close one."

'_Of course, it would be because of him.'_ Arthur silently cursed.

"Hey, you could at least thank Francis!" shouted a voice, as Arthur was violently turned around only to be faced with an albino.

_'A German albino?' _Arthur asked himself while looking at Francis' friend with wide eyes.

"Mon ami, calm down." said Francis as he came to Arthur's rescue form Gilbert's wrath, slowly taking Gilbert's hands away from Arthur's chair, while getting closer to Gilbert's ear. "Besides, wouldn't you rather be with your Lithuanian friend?"

"Ja." Gilbert said after a few moments of tense silence. After which, Gilbert turned his attention to the Lithuanian that he had met less than a day ago.

"Guten tag." said Gilbert as he reached the confused Lithuanian owner from the night before. Mind you, Toris is not easily confused, but considering the events that he had just witnessed, who wouldn't be confused.

Though, just when Gilbert rested his right arm around the Lithuanian's shoulders, the Lithuanian snapped out of his hazy confusion and turned his attention back to Arthur. Shrugging Gilbert off in the process, thus earning a frown from Gilbert, who then turned his piercing red eyes at Arthur.

"Sir, are you sure that you are alright?" asked the owner worriedly.

Arthur himself has still not come out of his hazy confusion, so he did not answer right away. Which worried Toris to no end.

"Sir?"

"Earth to Arthur~" sang Francis while he moved a hand in front of Arthur's face; after seeing that Gilbert's new friend was getting awfully worried.

And, at the sound of Francis' voice, Arthur snapped out of his haze into a new found anger.

"Stop that, you git!" Arthur shouted as he slapped Francis' hand away. After feeling quite satisfied with himself, Arthur realized that he was being stared at by the owner of the cafe, who once again had a worried, yet confused look upon his face.

His embarrassed blush appeared upon his face again, "S-sorry about that . . . Er." stuttered out Arthur.

The owner immediately stepped out of his confused state into his business state. "Toris Laurinaitis." Toris said with a smile as he held out his hand to Arthur, who took it without hesitation.

"Arthur Kirkland."

After finally breaking the handshake, Gilbert took this opportunity to interrupt and take his new _'friend'_ away. "Gut, I am going to take Toris and sit on the other side of the cafe." And, with that, Gilbert was pulling Toris along with him to the back of the cafe, near the kitchen entrance.

"Feliks, would you please take the orders for a while?" asked the Lithuanian order, as he was dragged past the cash register, where his Polish friend was busily looking at a fashion magazine while blowing a bubble with his gum, which popped when he nodded at his friend's request.

"Like, I guess, I have to." murmured Feliks with a slight smile upon his face as he saw his best friend with the new customer. After several moments, Feliks sighed, and then continued to tighten his apron and did what Toris requested him to do. Take orders!

With a quick sweep around the room, Feliks saw that the little cafe was not as busy as it was other days. Toris was at the back table, and the other couple in the cafe at the moment were the two that had just caused a commotion just a few moments ago.

With a shrug, Feliks went to that couple's table first.

"Like, are you guys read-" Feliks suddenly cut himself off when he got a good look at Francis. "Oh, my god, are you Francis Bonnefoy?!" squealed Feliks, interrupting the staring contest between Francis and Arthur.

At the new found intrusion, Francis broke eye contact with Arthur and gave Feliks a smile.

"Why, yes I am. And, to what do I own pleasure of you knowing my name?" Francis said smoothly, earning him another squeal from Feliks.

"Like, I'm totally your biggest fan. I cannot wait till your line comes out!" Feliks said quickly, Arthur barely understood what he was saying. Though, by this point in Francis' career, anything that comes out of a fan's mouth is as clear as crystal. That, and besides he had a pretty good guess what the Polish man had just said.

"That is wonderful. Though, before we continue any further, may you tell me your name?" Francis said while he got out of his seat into a kneel, taking the Pole's hand and giving it a kiss.

To put it in the most basic terms what had happened next . . . . Feliks fainted. Toris apologize profusely. Now Eduard, Toris' younger brother, was taking orders. And, three more couples and one alone had walked in during these events. Feel free to guess.

* * *

><p>"Um, Heracles, can we have lunch elsewhere?" asked Kiku as he noticed that the cafe that Heracles was leading to had quite a commotion inside.<p>

"If, it's too crowded for you, we can always go my hotel room and order there." offered Heracles.

"This is fine." answered Kiku with a blush appearing upon his face. To say the least, Heracles had some kind of an affect on the younger Japanese man, and being alone with him would only make matters worst.

"Alright." nodded Heracles.

By then, both had been seated by very level headed, Eduard, away from all the commotion. So, Kiku did not see that Arthur was in the cafe as well.

Within moments, thanks to Eduard, both Heracles and Kiku had their drinks and were quite comforable in the other's presence to say the least.

"So . . ." started Heracles, testing the waters to see if Kiku was calm. Kiku only sightly acknowledged Heracles' testing, so Heracles figured it best time than any.

"Kiku, aren't you going to interview me?" asked Heracles slowly snapping Kiku out of his thoughts, but him asking had the opposite reaction Heracles was hoping for . . . Kiku, began to panic.

"So, how old are you Karpusi-san?" asked Kiku after he managed to take out a pen and a notepad.

Though, before he noticed, Heracles placed his hand over Kiku's, giving him another embarrassed blush.

"Please," Heracles used his other hand to bring up Kiku's head with his chin, making sure that he had eye contact. "Call me Heracles."

"H-hai." Kiku murmured, turning more red by the moment.

Kiku remained in a shock for a few more moments, not even noticing that Heracles was not touching him anymore. "Twenty-seven."

Kiku immediately snapped out of his daze and went into business mode. "Your birthday." asked Kiku, trying to his gaze down at what he was writing, and not look up at Heracles' eyes.

"March third."

Another scribble. "Tell me a bit about you-" Kiku was cut off with Heracles putting his finger in front of his mouth.

"It's my turn, Kiku." Heracles stated with a small smile, after which, he got a small nod from Kiku.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"Your birthday?"

"February eleventh." answered Kiku with no hesitation, but now with a smile in his eyes. "Now, may you tell me your life's story?" asked Kiku.

"Hmm . . ." Heracles pondered for a few moments before shaking his head, earning a frown from Kiku.

"Why not?"

"Everything else you want to know, is pay-per-view. The payment are made dates, every time you agree to go out with me." stated Heracles.

"Karp-, I mean, Heracles, you must understand that I am on a tight schedule, I must have your interview done by Wednesday." Kiku explained, getting a little more nervous with every word.

"Only two more dates. One later today over dinner, and tomorrow after my fashion show."

"I don't know . . ." replied Kiku with unease. Heracles' plan did indeed give him plenty of time to do his work. But, he already felt _strange_ around the Grecian.

"I can always refuse to answer any more questions." Heracles stated with a serious look, earning a even more panic reaction from Kiku.

"What time tonight?!"

* * *

><p>After the second commotion at the Lithuanian cafe was over, two Italian brothers and their <em>dates<em> had walked into the cafe to be promptly served by the Estonian waiter.

But, just like Arthur, all these new customers had different views of their so-called dates.

To the Spaniard and younger Italian of the group, it was in fact a date. To the serious German, it was simply a meeting. To the older Italian, it was torture.

"Vee~ Ludwig, do you know Antonio?" asked preppiest of the group.

"Nein," answered Ludwig before he gave a curt nod to Antonio, in turn getting a smile from the Spaniard.

After a few moments of awkward silence due to the two smiling idiots, I mean, cuties. Ludwig cleared his throat.

"So, if you guys do not mind, may we start the interview?"

"The faster the better." Lovino answered bitterly.

"I would love to hear more about you two~" Antonio said with another huge smile, choosing to ignore Lovino's comment.

"Vee~ You got the okay." Feliciano smiled.

"Ja . . ." Ludwig nodded after he placed his notepad in front of him and got his pen for his coat pocket.

"When are your birthdays?" Start off easy first.

"March seventeenth." replied Feliciano.

Hearing no incoming answer from Lovino, Ludwig went promptly to the next question. "How old are the both of you?"

"Twenty." Feliciano answered cheerily.

"Twenty-two." Lovino answered

"So, the two of you aren't twins?: asked Ludwig after writing down their respective ages, he was quite confused considering how alike they both looked.

"No, you imbecile, if we were twins, do you think we would be the same age?" Lovino yelled.

"But, you have the same birthdays, I only assumed . . ." Ludwig tried to explain himself, though like everyone else before him, trying to explain themselves to Lovino was a lost cause.

"Then, how can the two of you have the same birthdays?" asked Antonio, thus redirecting the glare of Lovino from Ludwig to him.

"Like I know!" shouted Lovino.

"I know~" piped Feliciano. "I was born about a month late, and Lovino was born a few months early and it just so happened we have the same birthdays." explained Feliciano, with his huge smile still lingering on his face.

_'That explains it. . .'_ thought Ludwig to himself while he wrote down his new found knowledge.

Before, Ludwig could ask his next question, Lovino's phone rang. So, with a curse in Italian, Lovino answered it without even excusing himself. To say the least, the people at the table, mainly Ludwig, experienced an awkward moment since the conversation was all in Italian.

With another apparent curse, Lovino snapped his phone closed and stood up from his seat. "Feli, we have to go now, those stupid imbeciles lost some of our designs."

"Aww, do we both have to go?"

"Si, I'm not redrawing all of them by myself." answered Lovino as he walked out the cafe's door.

Feliciano gave a quick look between the German and Spaniard and apologized. "Sorry, but I guess we have to go." With a kiss on both their cheeks, Feliciano stood up to leave.

"Nice seeing you Antonio~" Antonio simply nodded with a smile. "And, Ludwig, we should go out later tonight!" And, with that Feliciano quickly followed where his brother went. "Call me~"

_'Is this what they called being stood up?' _ wondered Ludwig with a sign. "Antonio, let me pay this time around." Ludwig said before he took out wallet, since he figures that this won't be the first, or last time dealing with the Italian brothers.

* * *

><p>"That sure was eventful." laughed a deep, German accented voice as the owner simply took a seat next to his so called date.<p>

"A little too much." replied the Lithuanian, trying to stop the Prussian's advances.

"So, Toris . . ." started Gilbert, a little bit shyly.

"Is anything the matter Gilbert?" asked the Lithuanian with a kind expression on his face. It would be an understatement to say that Gilbert was not affected by the Lithuanian's charms.

"About last night . . .I'm sorry it got a little out of hand." apologized Gilbert, if Antonio, or Francis were paying attention to their albino friend, they would probably be recording this, since Gilbert never apologizes. People apologize to Gilbert, even if it's Gilbert's fault.

Toris simply gave Gilbert a kind smile as he noted the slight blush upon the Prussian's cheeks. "Do not worry about it. Both of you were a bit drunk, so it was simply the alcohol doing it's work."

"I guess, but . . ." Gilbert was going to say something heartfelt, but like the night before, a certain Russian came and took a seat on the other side of Toris.

"Ah, Toris it is so wonderful to see you again~" Ivan greeted after he gave Toris a small hug with his left arm.

_'DAMN, cockblocker!'_ cursed Gilbert giving his best death glare towards the Russian intruder.

"Hello, Ivan, it is nice to see you too." greeted Toris with another smile, this time directed towards Ivan instead of Gilbert.

For the next few moments, the silence between the three became more intense then the fight from the night before. Luckily, for our dear little Toris, Feliks decided to wake up from his faint spell.

"Toris, Feliks is awake now." called out Eduard from the kitchen.

"Coming." called back Toris, slowly getting up from the Prussian and the Russian. "I'll be back as soon as I can." And, with that, Toris went back into the kitchen.

Now, both men had a chance to glare at each other without the Lithuanian between them.

"What's your fuckin' deal?" asked Gilbert, none the too nicely.

"I should be saying that to you." Ivan gave an evil grin. "I hope you realize that Toris is mine." Ivan stated.

"Since when?" scoffed Gilbert, "I don't see him giving you attention."

"But, he still isn't giving you all of his attention." stated Ivan.

That was it. Gilbert finally blew up a fuse. "Damn, COMMIE!" shouted Gilbert.

"Please, you're Prussian apparently, East Germany ring any bells?" laughed Ivan.

"Cockblocker!"

"At least, I have one." Ivan said with another laugh, slightly staring down at where Gilbert's was suppose to be.

By this point, Gilbert was blushing with anger and embarrassment, but he made no more comebacks, which only gave Ivan more layaway.

But, before he could say anymore, Ivan looked behind Gilbert only to see a certain Lithuanian frowning at the both of them.

"Toris, back so soon?" Ivan commented with a childish smile.

"I have the half the mind to kick the both you out this instance." Toris said with his arms crossed. When someone takes this stance, it can only mean that the person means business. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't."

Quickly, both Ivan and Gilbert gave each other a fearful stare, and then redirected back at Toris. Though, Toris' stance only made them think how cute he was, and not how he angry at the both of them. So, as absentmindedly as usual, Gilbert said the first thing that came to mind.

"You're fuckin' hot." Gilbert quickly covered his mouth with his hands. At least, his comment made Toris blush a little, Toris immediately turned his attention to Ivan, who is now experiencing the same side effects as Gilbert. But, unlike Gilbert, he does not say whatever is on his mind.

"I believe, what my comrade is trying to say is that, we both want a chance." Ivan stated clearly before looking away from Toris and Gilbert with a blush beginning to form.

After a few seconds with the childish silence, Toris gave a sigh.

"I understand, but if the both of you a chance, you have to prove to me that you earn that chance." Toris started to say, but thought against it and went with the simpler way, "I'm hard to get." Toris said a smile, which in turn, earned him a smirk from the other two men.

* * *

><p>"It's barely three, and I'm already tired. . ." complained a certain Brit while he put some sugar into his tea.<p>

"I'm sorry about that, mon cheri. Do you wish to move this interview to another time?" asked Francis, seeing that the Englishman looked quite tired.

"Does dinner sound good?" asked Arthur before taking his tea to his lips.

"Oui, I need to finalize some of my designs before six tonight, so dinner would work greatly in my favor."

"What time?"

"At cix heures." answered Francis.

"Where at?"

"Here." answered Francis while he took out a pen from his coat pocket and wrote on Arthur's notepad.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviewer's Responses:<strong>

**MDWOLFGIRL – **It only proves how close they are.

**Ayanami-verloren – **Isn't the makeup always the cause of the downfall on a secret mission? And, I absolutely love your analogy there! I never thought of it that way, I just really wanted Francis to be as cheesy as my bf.

**Dawnstar94 – **You forgot? T~T . . . Jk, I can be absent minded too, but I'm worst because I never remember the title of the fanfics I enjoyed and most of the time I can never find them again. Every reader is important, if you pay no heed to them, then sometimes you cannot possibly get better at writing, or listening. Well, that's my take on it anyways.

**XXForestStarXX – **Thank you~! And, what Francis has planned is an absolute secret . . . Mainly because I'm haven't thought it all the way through yet!

**Francey-pants98 – **Glad you enjoy all of them, and honestly, I just can't decide between Russia and Lithuania or Prussia and Lithuania. . . . So, I just go back and forth between them. Same with Greece x Japan, or Turkey x Greece or Netherlands x Japan . . . . I should really stop now . . . Anyways I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. But, I personally hate fanfics that show Lithuania as spineless. I know I kinda do that, but that is how I develop his character. Come on, he was the largest country in Europe for a time that has to count for something!

**Been a busy few months, I've applying to as many scholarships as I can, as well as universities. FUN FACT: I went the National FFA Convention in October, if you know of anyone that went, I was probably the California person everyone was taking pictures of with my jacket since I was the only California one they could find~ The trip also included a trip to NYC! I fell in love with the East Coast, I'll tell ya~ The people are so much nicer than over here!**

**In other news, I made a tumblr and lj account: sky65melody. I don't know what to post there, so any ideas? Also, I need people to talk to, getting a bit bored of so many applications.**


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